


The Odd Couple

by boldlygowherenodoghasgonebefore



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friendship, M/M, More tags and characters to be added, Rating Might Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boldlygowherenodoghasgonebefore/pseuds/boldlygowherenodoghasgonebefore
Summary: Miles O'Brien loves his wife.  When she's offered a job as chief botanist in post-war Cardassia, she jumps at the chance.  Julian Bashir lives on Cardassia with his husband Garak, adjunct to the federation ambassadors.  The Cardassian government has banned starfleet officers from any jobs of import.   Miles and Julian find themselves reluctant and not quite capable homemakers with too much time on their hands.AU where Miles never served on ds9 (he was still transporter chief on the Enterprise when they moved) and is based on ideas by cyrelia-J, eilu, and savorybreakfasts.





	The Odd Couple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Savorybreakfasts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorybreakfasts/gifts), [Cyrelia_J](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/gifts), [eilu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilu/gifts).



The sun shone down on the sidewalks in the North Torr district of Cardassia City.  It always did.  The heat was intense, and the humidity was worse.  Huge swaths of barren landscapes stretched for miles on either side of the small residence that housed the O’Brien family. 

Miles O'Brien wiped the sweat off his forehead.  He was in a foul mood.    _How had it only been 31 days?_  

He stood up, pacing the small bedroom, hands balled into fists, kicking the chair in frustration.

 _Ouch._ Well, that was a mature reaction.  Sometimes he felt like he was losing his mind.

 _I love Keiko.  I love her.  It’s worth it._  

Oh hell, saying it didn’t change anything.  It was the worst assignment he'd ever had.

"Yes, sir," he said, every day, "the boxes have been delivered.  Yes, all the leftovers were brought to the shelters in the capital.  No, no problems on route."

God how he wished there would be a problem.  Just once.  Something he could puzzle out.  Use his starfleet diplomatic training for anything other than keeping his mouth firmly shut.  He'd have welcomed a breakdown of the Janad.  Those old ground vehicles had certainly been through enough.  Then at least he could put his engineering skills to work, shake the aching feeling of his brain rotting as the days went by.

_"I'm sorry, chief, but we find that Cardassian men rarely have an aptitude for engineering work.  Yes, admittedly you're human, but you're not familiar with Cardassian equipment.  Come now, you can surely see we have no use for a transporter operator."_

When he'd protested, they'd told him in no uncertain terms that the last thing they needed was another unskilled set of hands to train.   He'd seethed with anger, but there was no recourse. 

Keiko had appealed to Garak.  They were old friends; he'd never asked why and truly didn't want to know.  The ambassador had at least been able to secure work for O'Brien.

 _Work._   He laughed.   _I'm a glorified truck driver_.  _Good thing I spent all those years at the academy._

The thought came unbidden, and he shook his head to clear it.  His father had been adamant that there was meaning in working with one's hands.  And Miles certainly knew science officers with nothing but scorn for career engineers, especially noncoms, feeling that they were no more than mindless mechanics.

He just wanted to be useful.  The food needed to be delivered; it was a necessary job.  But he'd never felt more ineffectual in his life.

_And we've circled right back to bitter._

*****

Julian sat in the kitchen, trying for the third time to make custard.  It was silly.  Garak didn’t even like custard, but homemade was a way different animal than the replicated, gooey substance he’d tried.  Julian was determined to introduce him to the delicacy.  His mother had made it for him as a toddler, and the memories were so vivid he could almost taste it.   Creamy, silk, sweet, sometimes spread on pound cake with jam.  He closed his eyes.   Homemade custard was heaven. 

Except for his.  On his first attempt, Julian had almost set the kitchen on fire.  He’d been so intent on reading the instructions for the remainder of the recipe that the milk boiled over (maybe he’d used a tad too much as well), his surprised movements knocked over the pot, and his sleeve had caught on fire from the now empty burner.

The second attempt was better, but he’d accidentally poured the batter into the boiling milk, scrambling the eggs.  His concoction was barely edible. 

_If I’d wanted to fry eggs, I could’ve just broken them on the sidewalk.  It’s hot enough._

Returning to his work, Julian once again brought the milk to a boil, and was working on the rest of the batter when the chime sounded.

He removed the milk from the heat and called, “Come in.”

On his doorstop stood a Cardassian woman.  She was dressed in a blue frock, old but well-maintained, and she held a small baby in her arms.  Julian guessed she was about 40, but the lines in her face gave her the look of a much older woman.

The baby, about nine months old, wailed as the woman spoke.  Julian could barely hear her over the din.

She looked down, and her voice shook.  She murmured something unintelligible, and he waited patiently until she raised her head and met his eyes.

“My baby is sick.  He won’t stop crying.”

Well, that wasn’t so unusual in itself, but he noticed that the child’s complexion was paler than normal and there were several wounds on his arm, one rather deep and red.   He went to find the medkit they kept in the back room.  Despite Garak’s insistence that he was well looked after, he allowed his husband to manage his medical care. 

Julian checked the child’s pulse, blood pressure, and listened to his heart, then inspected the wounds. 

He gently cleaned the boy’s arm, saying, “This wound is infected.  It seems like it has been for some time.  Why didn’t you bring him to a clinic?”

She seemed surprised to be asked. 

“If I bring him to a Cardassian doctor, they’ll take him from me.  I…I don’t have money to pay for medical care.”

A flash of fury crossed his face, and he saw her take a step back.

Julian sighed inwardly, and the tension on her face relaxed as he looked at her compassionately.

“Sit down and have some tea.  He’ll be all right.  What’s his name?  And yours?”

She paused to regain her composure.

“My name is Eara Trak, and my son is called Melgarr.”

“All right, little man, we’re going to take good care of you.  Just sit tight while I make your mother a cup of tea.”

Julian disappeared into the kitchen, trying mightily to regain control of himself. 

 _Bloody Cardassians_.  Their world was in shambles, people starving on the streets, children dying, and what was their response?   To ban federation doctors.   Sure, they’d accept federation supplies, but federation personnel were restricted to jobs that were, shall we say, harmless.   Federation scientists, botanists, farmers, volunteers to help at shelters and deliver food, all of those were fine. 

Yet human doctors and engineers were banned from working in the capital, as well as anyone with military training, which ruled out more or less everyone in Starfleet.   Garak’s position as an adjunct to the federation ambassador _might_ have allowed the government to make an exception, but he was an augment, and it seemed Starfleet was not unique in its fear of genetically-enhanced humans. 

What this left were medical facilities that were chronically understaffed, and scarcity always led to abuse.   Centers took care of patients who could pay and exacted vengeance on those that didn’t.  Eara’s worry of losing her son at the clinics was all too real.

Julian reappeared in the living room with a cup of tea and sat by Melgarr.

“All right, we’re going to clean the wound thoroughly, and then apply some salve to fight the infection and provide a barrier to the elements.  Eara, please watch me, so you can change the bandage and reapply the medication daily.”

 Eara watched dutifully as Julian took the steps necessary to deal with the wound. 

Oral medication would be more difficult.  Melgarr needed a full course of antibiotics but securing them would be challenging.   Luckily, Julian still had some contacts at Starfleet medical, and they occasionally “rerouted” supplies to him, so he could treat himself and Garak, as well as occasional visitors and friends. 

He gave Eara a sample of antibiotics with instructions to return the next day for the rest of the week’s dose.

“You’ve been so kind.  I don’t know how to thank you.”

This time Julian managed a genuine smile.

“There’s no need, truly.  It was my pleasure.”

She looked past him to the kitchen.

 “Were you trying to make custard?”

Julian was startled.

“Yes.  Yes, I was.  It still needs a bit of work.“

“You’ve been so kind to us.  Let me repay you.  I can whip you up a fresh batch in no time.”

Despite his protests, soon the kitchen was filled with a wonderful aroma.  It wasn’t quite his mother’s custard, but it was just as good.  He piled some on his pound cake, coated it with jam, and took a bite.  Heavenly.

Picking up another piece, he asked eagerly, “Can you teach me to make that?”

“Of course.”

*****

 _Thud_.   The ball bounced off the wall and Miles took a huge swing at it, missing entirely.

 _Focus._ He cleared his mind and hit the ball, once, twice, ten times against the wall with force and precision.  He could feel the tension of the day melting away with each strike.  Keiko was right.  This was a good idea. 

The days never changed.  _Whack!_   One long stretch of monotony.  God how he hated it.  _Whack._

Miles continued, almost in a trance, until he heard a voice behind him.  “Fancy a game?”

Miles turned to see Julian Bashir standing behind him, racquet in hand.  He was startled; he hadn’t realized anyone else made use of the courts. 

Garak’s husband had a bit of a reputation in the city.  While he’d been barred from practicing medicine, it was an open secret that he took care of the poorer families in the district.  As far as he knew, Bashir refused to take payment, and so the women in the village had taken him under their wings.  On any given day, the doctor received homecooked meals, baked goods, mended clothing, and a steady stream of women who cleaned his house.  

It seemed Miles wasn’t the only one who needed distraction outside the house.  After all, Bashir had once been a Starfleet officer just like him, and a senior officer to boot.  Being shut out of anything important had to hurt.  At least Miles had a job outside the house.

He realized he’d been staring at Bashir this whole time, racquet hanging limply from his hand. 

Julian regarded him curiously and stretched out his hand.

“You’re Keiko Obrien’s wife, right?  Miles?   I’m Julian Bashir.”

 _Keiko’s wife?_   That rankled, but he pushed aside his poor temper and shook Bashir’s hand.

“Miles O’Brien.  Nice to meet you.”

Julian continued to look at him questioningly, and suddenly he remembered.  The game.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I’d love a game.  It’s been awhile since I’ve played a human opponent.  I’m a bit rusty.”

Julian nodded in understanding, but said, “You didn’t look that rusty to me.  Clearly I have my work cut out for me.”

Silence fell as they began to play.  Miles had to admit that Julian was far better than any computer opponent.  Adrenaline coursed through him as the game continued, and for the first time on this godforsaken planet, time began to fly by.

Miles was being modest earlier; he was an excellent racquetball player and the challenge had brought out his best efforts.  And yet Julian countered even his finest moves.   As the match came to a close, both men were sweating.  It had been a reasonably close game, but Julian maintained a solid lead throughout.

Of course.  Miles had forgotten.  He’s an augment.

_Hardly a fair fight. People like him shouldn’t even be allowed to compete._

The uncharitable thought passed through his head for a moment before he remembered that the residents didn’t think that men could handle engineering work or that former Starfleet officers could be trusted.  Hell, they barely trusted Miles to drive a truck.  Julian must face far more prejudice as both an augment and a senior Starfleet officer.

Julian saw him thinking and turned away in resignation.

“I’ve heard it all before.  It isn’t proper for people like me to compete.  We have an unfair advantage.  You played well, though.  Better than any opponent I’ve faced in a long time.  Then again-“

There was no need to finish.  Competition was scarce in this part of Cardassia.

Miles’ smile was genuine this time.

“I enjoyed it.  Do it again some time?”

Julian beamed. 

“I’d love to.”

****

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
